


Lower East Side

by Morphologist



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Flashbacks, Gangs, Homelessness, Hope, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Supportive Family versus Unsupportive Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11862402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morphologist/pseuds/Morphologist
Summary: After getting his bachelors degree from the University of Toronto, Ivan Braginsky, better known to his friends as Vanya, decides to get some job experience in Vancouver, British Columbia- before heading off to graduate school. Three years ago, his boyfriend from his hometown of Kelowna- Arthur Kirkland- dropped out of college and ran away from a broken home without leaving any sign as to where he was going. Vanya never thought he'd see him again, but fate would prove him wrong. The reality of the past three years isn't an easy one to handle and Vanya has many issues of his own that he's kept concealed from friends and family. But Arthur's demons aren't so well hidden. Vanya will do whatever it takes to protect Arthur and make him well again. No one said the road to recovery was an easy one. But Vanya's not about ready to give up.





	Lower East Side

**Author's Note:**

> This may be a multi-chaptered story or just a three-shot. This is the first story I'm posting to ao3. Leave kudos and comments please, I really value your opinions. Hope you enjoy!

Vanya always walked faster in this part of Vancouver. The glass buildings on the upper East Side juxtaposed with the old stone of Chinatown. Beyond Chinatown, which is where his flat was located, happened to be one of the most notorious dens of inequity in North America.

Vanya thought he knew what he was getting into when he rented the flat above the old Chinese restaurant at the corner of East Hastings Street. But he truly didn’t. This place was crawling with addicts. Homelessness was rampant. People crowded along the entire length of both flanks of the street, for over two blocks. They sat among their rusted shopping carts, and filthy cardboard boxes. Like dull chameleons, blending right into brackish gutters and cracked pavements that lined the street. People everywhere, about twenty years old and above, all in various states of physical and mental decay expounded by many years weathering urban elements without the safety of a fixed place to live. You can’t see many of their faces from behind the billows of vapors and toxic smoke that emanated from pipes and blunts that stored a whole lot more than simple tobacco or dope. They congregated like moths to a lamp, and that lamp was crack cocaine and all of its nefarious cousins. Vanya hated it when he made accidental eye contact on a train or a bus with random strangers anyway. But walking down these blocks after work every day had become quite a chore in itself, because not only did the men and women in ragged jeans and jackets stare at him like he was an odd specimen from a curio shop- but they sometimes weaved close to him, as if testing his personal space. He’d walked around the ten problematic blocks instead of right through them. It added more time to his walk, and eventually he decided to just take the most direct path right through.

Today, as the sun stood half-obscured on the horizon, he took another direct trek down East Hastings to save himself more time. He was dead tired. Sitting in front of a computer the whole day in a cramped office was not a place he’d thought he’d end up after getting his education at the University of Toronto. He reminded himself that this was just an attempt at getting some real job experience before heading to graduate school. However he was beginning to think that being a Russian translator working for big businesses wasn’t what he really wanted to do. A pity considering he already had a degree in both Russian and Finance. He wasn’t making as much as he thought he would be, and he didn’t want his family to know he was having any second thoughts at all about the career field he was entering. His family lived just a few hours away from the city in Kelowna. Technically he could live there on the weekends if he wanted. But he didn’t. He wanted space to breathe. Mobility. As much of an escape from judgement as he could muster. Besides, Kelowna brought back memories that he wished to bury. They kept him awake at night. He didn't think physically being there would make it better. 

He stared straight ahead as he walked, his mind wandering aimlessly over the past few hours. His white dress shirt stood out against the growing shadows of the street. Shouts and hollers coursed through the air over his head. Vanya clenched his briefcase a bit tighter, recalling how once a young woman had whisked past him and barked “HA!”, brandishing bags of her tattered clothes in his face, before bolting off again. She didn’t have half of her teeth and her eyes twinkled like two blue orbs. Another time, he’d seen a fight break out behind him. Heard screams, turned around, and some guy was kicking another guy in the ribs. After Vanya hurried to his apartment that day, he’d heard police sirens. The next day, the other addicts were still there, huddled in their loose circles, still shooting various brands of poison into their veins.

Vanya thought to himself as he walked: _One of the most prosperous cities in North America, and yet it can’t even afford to save-_

Suddenly he heard a rasp from behind him: “ Excuse me…?”

Vanya kept his brisk pace, simply ignored the voice.

“ D-do I… know you, mate?”

British? What?

 _Great, another crazy one._ Vanya ignored the voice, didn’t change his pace.

Suddenly he felt something brush up against his shoulder.

Vanya startled and whirled around, taking a full step back simultaneously. He didn’t realize he’d unwittingly smacked his briefcase against the guy’s head until it was too late.

“ Ung!” The man stumbled, covered his face.

Vanya cursed himself for having overreacted, and was about to go back on his way, but instead he hesitated. He could see the contour of bone under the pale skin of the man’s wrists, from which the edge of a knife had left even paler scars against it. He wasn’t very old at all, maybe the same age as Vanya. His grey hoodie was thin, torn at both elbows, and filthy. Hair a messy mop of dirty blonde. Lean. Terribly lean…

There is something about that frame, that’s eerily familiar.

The man dropped his scarred wrists.

Vanya froze. A train might as well have hit his stream of consciousness and left it dead.

… No, it couldn’t be…

That pair of leaf green eyes, complemented by a pair of bushy eyebrows, used to be the sharpest and keenest he knew.

They pierced him long ago, thawed the layers of ice that encased his heart. It felt like ages ago, part of a tale of joy and woe that dwelled in an alternate reality. He’d tried to forget the pain, tried to preserve the joy, of those days when this was the most important person in his life.

“ Am I dreaming…?” the shaky figure breathed. He swayed a little, blinked. Those eyes were the same unmistakable color, but something was gone. They were glassy, uncomprehending. The quality that had made them radiant, which spoke of an internal resilience like no other. That resilience, had disintegrated.

Vanya’s insides churned. He was growing sicker by the second. Not from the decay he saw before him, but from the sensation that a part of himself had been torn away and cast into the garbage heaps of the alleyways. He took a step back, heat building up behind his eyes. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand. Took another step back, stiffening.

People were watching. They all had the same eyes, he realized. The same empty, glazed, and helpless look.

“ Vanya…” came the thin, reedy rasp, “ It’s me… I… I’ve missed you…”

The man’s voice used to be so confident. Strong, like it could sink a ship on its own. Now it was scarcely an echo.

“ Arthur…“ Vanya choked, his brain felt like a fish floundering for air on the deck of a ship. For someone who had nightmares a lot, this had got to be one of the worst. Except it was real, and that made it the worst of all.

Vanya wanted to take Arthur’s sunken cheeks in his hands, hug him tight, tell him he was going to be OK. _You’re going to be just fine, solnyshko. Just fine._ Like all those times before, when Arthur had been in pain, struggling with school and just about everything else.

The sun was setting. The street grew busier. The other addicts stared like cats on fences. This was happening, this was really happening.

_Move. You have to move. Now._

“ Come with me.” Vanya commanded. And grabbed Arthur by the wrist.

Arthur didn’t resist. In fact there was scarcely even a flicker of question or alarm in his eyes. His expression didn’t change one bit.

Shouts rose up from the crowd of users along the pavement: “ WHooOAAO! What the hell was that?” “ He grabbed the kid!” “That ain’t a kiddo, fool, that’s a grown man! He’s just short as fuck.” “Mmmmahahahaa!” “Ya, kiss em, gayboy, kiss em!” “Why y’all callin em gay? He straight up gettin abducted or some shit too-” “ The little one’s gay-” "I don't believe that shit-" “Aaaaay, take em home, take em home, big guy! But remember, the little guy, he’s gonna want to get paaaaid!”

Vanya wasn’t about to let them have the satisfaction of seeing his tears. He held Arthur’s hand tightly. Arthur followed limply along, glancing over his shoulder at the other pedestrians with a slightly bewildered tinge to his glazed eyes. High. Definitely high. But on what? Codeine? Oxy? Meth? Heroin?

Vanya felt like his heart was just about ready to burst out of his chest. He tried to regulate his breathing but it was becoming harder and harder. His cheeks felt hot and he knew that now they must look red. Finally, they reached the very end of the block, crossed over to the next. Closer to home. There were less people here, but they still cast wary glances at the two of them. _What are you looking at?_ Vanya wanted to snarl, bare his teeth at them, harangue them for being in his way. But he just kept staring straight ahead, ignored all the eyes that were on him, pretended they belonged to a swarm of flies with brains smaller than the points of thumbtacks.

They finally reached the door to the apartment complex, a rickety wooden door with peeling green paint. The Chinese restaurant bustled beside it, full of nighttime customers. The pleasant aroma of Xiao long bao, dumplings, custard buns, egg tarts, and other goodies, wafted up from the open windows. Arthur paused by the window, and Vanya hesitated when he realized Arthur was eyeing one of the roast ducks.

“ Have you eaten today?” Vanya asked urgently, taking the back of Arthur’s head in one hand and looking him firmly in the eye, “ Tell me exactly what you want, I’ll get it for you right now.”

Arthur’s dull eyes moved back to the rows of food in the windows. He pressed one hand against the glass over a roast duck. Then his other hand on the glass over the row of steamed pork buns.

A man came up to the window, the head butcher, Wang.

“ What’ll it be?” Wang asked. He glanced at Arthur curiously.

“ We’ll have a full duck and three of your pork buns.” Vanya replied, whipping out his wallet and putting the money in Wang’s hands.

Wang took a duck down from one of the hooks and chopped it up to fit it into a take out box. Arthur didn’t take his eyes away from the duck for a second. Vanya felt a little calmer now, knowing that at least Arthur wouldn’t go hungry today.

_But how long has he been out here? Dear God, how long has he been on his own?_

“ Your friend here, uh, is he OK?” Wang asked, nodding at Arthur, a bit concerned now. He handed the boxes over.

“ H-he’s gonna be just fine. Thank you.” Vanya replied quickly. And with that, he took Arthur by the hand again and pushed him to the door of the apartment. He punched in the passcode and dragged Arthur up the dark stairwell.

Arthur paused halfway up, and slowly reached for the food.

Vanya cupped the back of Arthur’s head in his free hand again, and said in a hushed voice, “Almost there, Art, almost there.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Vanya opened the door.

Vanya hurriedly set the food on the table. He whirled around and Arthur was leaning precariously on the doorway.

“ Here.” Vanya guided Arthur over to the table and sat him down. Arthur blinked and swayed a little.

Were all users this unresponsive? A shudder ran through Vanya at the realization that if Arthur had been his usual self, he would have a whole lot to say about being dragged through the street by the hand just then. But this time Arthur didn’t even have the strength or the awareness to say a word.

Vanya took a bottle of hand sanitizer out of his briefcase and took Arthur’s hands in his, cleansed them. He went to grab a fork for him but Arthur had already picked up a steamed bun and was wolfing it down. Vanya never saw someone eat so fast before. Suddenly the sluggishness was gone, it looked like hunger had won out, at least for the moment.

“ Oh God, you need water.” Vanya realized, and dashed over to the fridge’s water dispenser. He got Arthur a cup of water and dashed back. Maybe more fluids would dilute whatever drug was in his system. That’s what Vanya hoped, and that little shred of knowledge carried over from the presence of several bottles of beer and vodka in his fridge. Something he really didn’t want to think about right now.

Arthur wordlessly grabbed the cup from Vanya’s hand, causing some water to splash out, and gulped it down rapidly.

Vanya simply sat beside Arthur, and of all the things that were running through his head, "he must be high right now, but on what?" was one of the primary ones.

Halfway through the duck, Arthur gave a grunt and sat back, hugging his arms to himself. He shivered a little, his eyes still half open, unfocused. He grimaced a little and Ivan realized he must have eaten too much too fast.

“ Ow…” he mumbled, dipping his chin. He gripped the back of his neck, then began to scratch furiously at his left cheek.

“ W-wait, don’t do that-“ Vanya began, reaching to guide Arthur’s hand away from his face, but Arthur flinched out of the way and kept scratching.

“ Arthur, what did you take? Are you on something right now? Arthur, please, you have to tell me-“

“ Nothing… nothing… sometimes I just feel like there’s these things… like long, thin, snakes, slithering around under my skin, between my bones… ya know how their scales are cold?… like ice water…” Arthur bent forward, facing away. He began to scratch the back of his neck, then under the collar of his hoodie.

“ When’s the last time you used? An hour ago? This afternoon? This morning?” Vanya asked.

Arthur didn’t reply, started to scratch his palms instead.

Vanya rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, tried to match Arthur’s gaze. The pupils of Arthur’s eyes were pinpoints, even though the lighting in the room was dim.

“ Sweetheart, I…” Arthur croaked. Tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, even though they kept drifting in an out of focus, “ I shouldn’t be here…”

“ Don’t say that!” Vanya cried. “Here” as in alive? Or “here” as in this room? It could just as easily be either, based on the dismal physical shape Arthur was in.

Arthur clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking, but right after he did so, his entire frame began to shake. His head twitched. He clenched his jaw. Vanya wrapped his arms around him, pulled him into an embrace. Arthur smelled like all the terrible things on the street, the pungency of tobacco and weed, and the stinging aroma of alcohol were mixed in with other more nefarious things. Arthur shivered, the skin of his neck felt hot, feverish.

Vanya slid the end of Arthur’s right sleeve up. He did so carefully, hoping that what he most feared wasn’t there.

But there they were, small bruises on the inside of Arthur’s right elbow.

_He’s ambidextrous. Oh please don’t let the other…_

The same bruises were on the inside of his left elbow, slightly fewer, but still prominent.

How many needles, how many… contaminations…

Arthur groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. Vanya shook him a little and they flew open again, but even less aware.

“ How are you feeling right now? What symptoms do you have?”

“ Symptoms? No symptoms… why would I have symptoms…”

“ Difficulty breathing? Do you shake like this all the time? What did you take?”

“ N…othing… Please don’t… be upset… please don’t…. cry… I’m sorry…”

“ I’m not upset, I’m not upset, Art, I’m just happy to see you, I need to know what you took last, and how much of it you took, that’s all, I want to make sure you’re not-”

“ You’re not even… real… are you?”

“ I _am_ real! I’m _right_ here! I’m _right here_!” Vanya choked. He inhaled sharply, feeling the reservoir of pain in his head pounding fiercely against the dam he had tried to form against expressing it. He shut his eyes and before he knew it, tears were coursing down his cheeks. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out, but as a result, a strangled sound emanated from deep inside his chest. He wanted to throw something, break something, channel the white hot pain inside of him, shatter something into a million pieces.

_This is my fault. This is all my fault._

Arthur brushed his fingers through Vanya’s hair. He pressed his lips tenderly to Vanya’s cheek. Vanya felt the boiling concoction of fury and pain in his stomach, ebb and return partially to its dark lair. Vanya shuddered, pulling Arthur closer, his head sinking into Arthur’s shoulder.

_Why did you cut me off? How long did it take for you to end up on the street? It’s been so fucking long, Jesus Christ… Why couldn’t you tell me you were gonna leave? Why didn’t you give me a sign? When I went back to Kelowna for the summer all those years ago, I was so fucking terrified. You weren’t returning any of my calls. You deleted all your social media. I found out your family had moved somewhere else close by, tracked down Colwyn, the one brother you got along with, only to find out you’d dropped out of college. Up and left. Wiped yourself off the grid. If you couldn’t be honest with the others, why couldn’t you at least be honest with me? I… I told you everything… and yet you didn't even..._

But all Vanya said was: “ You’re safe now… I’m real, and I’m here. You’re safe now…”

Arthur buried his head into the crook of Vanya’s neck, his breathing coming in slow and steady inhales and exhales. Vanya ran a hand through Arthur’s hair and hugged him closer. He rocked Arthur ever so slightly. He could feel Arthur drifting off into slumber.

He gently brushed a strand of Arthur’s hair away from his eyes. He remembered vividly how Arthur looked when he slept. Peaceful, all that fire and ice that constituted Arthur’s heart, concealed in the folds of lucid dreams.

Vanya lifted him up into his arms carefully, and walked with only a small amount of difficulty to his bedroom. He eased the door open with his foot and once inside, set Arthur gently on the bed. He took off Arthur’s shoes, pulled the blankets over him.

Vanya sat on the edge of the bed for a long while. He’d have to wash all the blankets and pillows tomorrow. Definitely get Arthur a checkup at the clinic to find out what is really going on. He watched Arthur’s chest rising and falling. He looked so fragile, his sunken cheeks matching the dark circles around his eyes. Vanya slowly got up, closed the bedroom door behind him, and made his way tacitly back to the living room.

He slumped onto the couch, cradling his forehead in his hands.

If this was any other night, he would have fished a drink out of his fridge and sat in front of the TV, make himself buzzed enough just to pick his spirits up, yet not buzzed enough to drift to sleep until an hour or two past midnight. He couldn’t bear to think of alcohol now. Suddenly that small comfort of a bottle felt more like a sin than it ever had before.

_That's what I am, I'm a sinner. I fucking overindulge. While Arthur was falling to pieces, I was off pretending to blend in with yuppie pieces of shit on the other side of the country. He cared more about me than any of them ever had-_

_I had to go to school. He made himself this way. There's nothing I could've-_

_Shut up!... Fuck... I'm a monster, I saw this coming, I could've done something! Anything! Just something!_

_I tried to make him stop before, when it was just cigarettes. But dear God, it wasn't fucking enough._

_He needed someone. And I wasn't fucking there!_

_I failed, I fucked up, and now he might never recover._

_No... I_ _need to f_ _ix this... fix this...._  

_I have no idea what I'm doing._

_No idea at all..._

_... Doesn't matter._

_I'll figure this out._

_I will._

_I must._


End file.
